


strength beyond the bones' design

by the_ragnarok



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Begging, Consent Play, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:44:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8004187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting John to the point that he agreed to even have a safeword - much well use it - was a very long and sometimes difficult campaign. It's worth it, though, for moments like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	strength beyond the bones' design

Getting John to the point that he agreed to even have a safeword - much well use it - was a very long and sometimes difficult campaign. 

It's worth it, though, for moments like this:

Harold spreads John's nether cheeks open, enjoying the shiver that runs through John's body at the action. Anticipation, a little bit of fear. Harold won't hurt him.

Of course, it's not pain that John fears.

At the first touch of Harold's mouth to him, John whispers, "No."

They've been over this. John does enjoy being rimmed. He loves it. That's why he can't ask for it, can't even let Harold freely offer.

"No," John whispers as Harold licks him wet and sloppy, drooling over him. It's messy. "Please, no, don't." His body trembles like a leaf in the wind under Harold's hands. 

Harold draws back, smoothing a hand over John's back. "My dearest," he says, low, aching for John, who gives and gives and cannot let himself accept anything in return unless he's forced. "You know you must." He resumes his efforts.

Soon John stops making words, devolving into broken gasps. Harold torments him mercilessly, making it as good as he can for John - and though Harold shouldn't brag, he is aware that that is very good indeed.

When John is twisting and squirming against the sheet - not away from Harold, but unable to contain himself and be entirely still - he changes course. He finds words again, pleading now for something different. "Fuck me," he says, and, "hurt me."

Harold has no intention of doing either, but he lets John beg. John does love to do it, and Harold must admit he's far from immune to it himself.

John comes clenching around Harold's tongue. Harold continues licking him until the last shudders have ceased and John's movements hint at overstimulation rather than guilty desire. 

When Harold backs away, John is beautifully flushed. Not from exertion. 

Harold pets the hair back from his forehead with a gentle hand. "How was it?"

John's eyes are closed. "I loved it." His voice is hoarse, low, the words pushed out. Having said them, John goes slightly more limp. 

This is an important part, making John admit that he wanted something that wasn't primarily for Harold's pleasure. "And I loved doing it for you," Harold says, entirely truthful.

John twitches at the words. He knows Harold won't lie to him, but feels Harold can't be honest. Ah, well: Harold will have to hope repetition will eventually convince John. 

One of Harold's fond fantasies has John begging, not for him to stop, but to continue, to fuck John with his tongue. If it never becomes reality, Harold still doesn't feel he has anything to complain about; nevertheless, he feels optimistic about his odds.

He pats John's rump. "I'll be back shortly." He plans to arrange his orgasm in the privacy of the bathroom before rejoining John in the bed.

John's hand lands on his thigh. "Stay."

Harold smiles at him. "It's really fine," he tells John, voice soft. "You rest."

"Harold." John shifts, looking up at him. Palms the bulge at Harold's crotch. "Please."

Unaccountably, Harold's mouth is dry. "Please, what?"

With a heartbreakingly earnest gaze, John says, "Please let me make you feel good," and Harold falls back into bed, helpless.


End file.
